


A Bride for Winterfell

by MariaJonsson



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:06:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaJonsson/pseuds/MariaJonsson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his father and older brother die aboard the Titanic, it is up to Ned to save their family estate, Winterfell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bride for Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I wrote this for CatxNed Week on [Tumblr](%E2%80%9Ccatxned.tumblr.com%22). When I started writing this I really didn't know what I was planning to do, but I hope this came together alright and that you all enjoy it :)

Ned Stark stood in his father’s library, a telegram in one hand, and in the other a letter in Lya’s handwriting, delivered within hours of each other, both bringing news of a changed world.

"It should have been me,” Ned voiced aloud, grabbing the parchment in his hand tighter, wrinkling it. Not Brandon, Ned was expendable, Brandon was the golden boy, the one who was supposed to safe Winterfell from ruin.

When Ned had suggested that he take Brandon's place with their father, Brandon had laughed and said there was no one better to watch over Winterfell than Ned, who rarely wanted to leave his childhood home, to leave the adventures to him.

Perhaps that was why God had done this to him, to punish him for craving what belonged to Brandon, for wishing that Winterfell were his.

Ned shook his head, knowing that not even his dishonorable desires could have caused a ship of Titanic’s size to sink, dragging almost half of the people on board to their deaths, including his father and Brandon.

The telegram had arrived a month ago; a formal letter stating the situation and a condolence for the family’s loss. It had arrived just a moment before Poole handed him the morning paper, the front page casting a shadow over Ned’s morning.

He had sent a messenger to Ben at Eton straight away, he deserved as much, although what Ned would say to Catelyn Tully, Brandon’s fiancé, he was still not sure. After all, he did not know the girl, never having met her, and heard little of her from his brother other than lewd comments about her appearance. His father was little better; his only interest being in what the lady would bring to her marriage to Brandon.

Ben had arrived a week later from Eton, wanting to be closer to home now that half their family seemingly gone within days of each other. Even Lya’s letter had done little to brighten up Ben’s spirits, which Ned could not fault him for, since Father and Brandon had only been aboard the Titanic because they had believed Rhaegar Targaryen, an American businessman, had taken Lyanna against her will the last time she had been in London, disappearing from their townhouse, right from beneath her governess’s nose, without so much as a letter or a reason.

The letter she had finally sent had been addressed to him, although it was clear Lya had no idea that Father and Brandon had followed her, or that they thought that she had been taken against her will. Despite himself, Lyanna’s letter had broken his heart more than hearing of Father and Brandon’s deaths, knowing their deaths had been so meaningless, that his sister had been so reckless, so foolish in her pursuit of the happiness she believed she could not find in England.

“Ned,” Benjen called, standing quietly in the doorway, waiting to be invited inside.

“Come in, Ben,” Ned said, waving his litt… his only brother inside.

“It is time,” Ben said. “The cars are all here and most of the staff has started towards the church, Poole asked me to tell you that they are completely prepared.

“Good,” Ned answered, placing the two letters in the top drawer of father’s desk, following his brother towards the automobile.

The service was pleasant enough for what it was, although the two empty caskets were a strange addition, but Ned supposed that they would have to bury at least something, for there was little hope that their bodies would ever be discovered.

The wake was a quiet affair, despite the hundreds of people, many of whom had travelled from all over the country to be here, to offer their respects and to earn favour from the new lord. Even a few of Brandon’s friends from Europe had come, along with distant relatives from Scandinavia, whom father had kept in touch with over the years for Mother's sake.

All the faces passed by in blur and each handshake felt like the one before it, and soon Ned felt so emotionally drained and tired he excused himself from the banquet hall and headed outside, towards the gardens his mother had groomed, knowing he’d find solace there.

To his surprise, he had not been the only one to escape the gathering, and when he entered his favourite part of the garden he found a young lady there, around his own age, wearing a fashionable black gown, with auburn hair tied up in a fashionable twist under a large black hat.

 “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, my lady, I did not know there was anyone here,” Ned said, when he noticed that he had startled her with his presence. 

“That’s alright, Lord Crawford, I was just leaving,” the young lady said, curtsying before him.

The use of his father’s title took him by surprise, for none had used it since his father’s death over a month ago.

“That’s alright, stay if you’d like, I was just coming out for some fresh air,” Ned said, moving to the side, coming to stand by the bench in front of the blue roses.

“They are unlike anything I’ve seen before,” the young lady said, the look of amazement appearing on her face, her voice like a song in Ned’s ears.

“My grandmother brought them with her from Scandinavia when she married my grandfather,” Ned said, recalling the stories his mother had told him when he was a child, smiling softly.

“Brandon never told me that,” she said, smiling a sad smile, that didn’t reach her eyes, casting a shadow over her lovely countenance.

“You knew my brother?" Ned asked with surprise, looking up at her.

The lady smiled softly, and turned towards him.

“Before his death, I was to be his wife,” she explained.

“Oh, I sorry my lady, I did not realize,” Ned muttered, embarrassed by his own ignorance. Ned had never met the Honorable Catelyn Tully, the daughter of Baron Tully, a man of considerable wealth and influence in London, despite his family’s relatively new status.

“Why would you?” she asked plainly, her eyes flickering with a hint of a challenge. “We have never met.”

Ned smiled a little at her frankness – Brandon had spoken little of the woman he was meant to marry, and much like when Robert spoke of Lyanna, he mostly spoke of how beautiful she was to look upon, and little of her character.

“That is true, but it would have been proper of me to seek you out and offer you my condolences,” Ned said, bowing before her. “I terribly sorry for your loss, my lady.”

“It is I that should be offering you such an offering, and not the opposite,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes again.

“Why do we not then agree that we both have lost someone and let it rest for now, while there is no one to remind us of our courtesies,” Ned said, offering her a smile.

“Alright,” the lady agreed. “But you’ll have to excuse me, my father will undoubtedly start looking for me, I’ve been gone too long.”

Before Ned could come up with a proper response, the lady had curtsied and left the garden, leaving him alone with the blue roses.

Ned did not stay long after Miss Tully left, returning to the banquet hall just in time to meet Baron Tully, the older man’s red hair and the resemblance to his daughter gave him away before the man could introduce himself.

“Lord Crawford, I’m Baron Tully, I do not believe we have met before,” Lord Tully introduced himself. 

“No, I don’t believe so, but both my father and my brother spoke of you with nothing but praise,” Ned answered.

“Good, good,” Lord Tully replied, seeming apprehensive about something. “I would usually follow proper etiquette, but you see I will be heading back to London in two days time, so there is little time. I was wondering if you might have time to welcome me tomorrow to discuss a matter of importance.”

Ned was surprised by his words, but not opposed to meeting the man who would have been Brandon’s father-in-law. 

“That would be alright. Why don’t you and your daughters come to the estate for luncheon?” Ned offered, catching a glimpse of Ms Tully standing with another auburn haired maiden, who appeared to be a couple of years younger.

The rest of the day passed by in a haze, Ben’s obvious pain, hurt Ned to the bone, and his mind often wandered towards his sister, and he wondered if Lya had heard about their deaths. He had sent a letter the same day he had received hers, hoping she’d be back before the service, that she’d at least send a letter, or a telegram, something to tell them she was well, and that she knew.

Ned's friend, Robert Baratheon, had stayed the night, having returned the day before from America. Apparently his eager friend had not been happy to wait while Brandon and Father went to Lyanna’s rescue and had insisted on coming along, to rescue His bride-to-be from the monster’s clutches. Robert had last seen Ned’s father and brother helping women and children into lifeboats, but all three men had gone down with the ship, falling into the freezing water, but only Robert had survived, and even that had been a miracle, his friend having been fished out of the freezing water, only showing a lost toe for his troubles. He had wanted to stay in America to search for Lyanna, but in a very Robert like fashion, he had ventured aboard the next ship to England, as if to prove that nearly dying on his last voyage did not frighten him enough to never sail again, after all the Baratheon’s were know for their sailing, as well as their stubbornness. 

This morning Robert claimed to be tired after the previous day’s events and excused himself from Ned’s luncheon, claiming to be in need of some rest, with the time differences, and all, although Ned suspected Robert would rather be out riding than sleeping in bed.

So when the Baron arrived with his daughters, only Ned and Ben were present. The luncheon went by fairly quickly, the girls were both well versed in the art of conversation, and his brother seemed delighted with the attention he received from them. Truly smiling for the first time since he had arrived home.

After lunch, Ned and Lord Tully retired to the library to discuss what plagued Baron Tully so much, that he’d risk breaking decorum.

“I’ll be quick about this, no need to be taking more of your time than I already have,” the Baron said, taking a sip of the whisky Ned had poured him.

“By all means,” Ned said, following the man’s lead and taking a sip of his own drink.

“As you know, your father and I made a deal, a few years ago, which was then made public two years ago when my Cat debuted in front of his majesty,” the man said, a twinge of pride appearing in his blue eyes when he mentioned his daughter. “That plan was to benefit both of our families.”

“I’m aware,” Ned said, casting a neutral face outwards, trying not to give anything away that the Baron was not already aware of.

Lord Stark had started looking for a wealthy bride for Brandon when he was still a boy, even going so far as to think of finding a foreign bride for him, possibly an American, although they had been spared from such a fate when Rickard Stark had struck a deal with Hoster Tully. A substantial amount of money in exchange for a title, a dowry in exchange for a grandson who’d become an Earl.

“I want to have that deal extended to you,” the Baron continued.

“I beg your pardon,” Ned said, shocked.

“I want you to consider marrying my Catelyn,” the man stated. “And in exchange you will have the same considerations as your father did.”

The man appeared to be selling his daughter off, as if they were speaking of horses and not ladies. Could Ned possible consider such an offer, could he refuse? She was a beauty and Ned was now the Lord of Crawford, the keeper of Winterfell, and it was his duty to make sure it survived, that its people would have a home, that the Starks would keep their place in society, that there would be other Earls after his time, there were worse fates.

“I apologies for my frankness, but I must know if you plan to honor the arrangements between our two families before I consider other options,” the Baron said, alarmed by Ned’s silence.

“Of course Lord Tully, I apologies for my silence, I was merely taken aback by your offer, I had not truly thought much off it,” Ned spoke frankly, forgetting himself.

The Baron looked him over as if he could know what was in Ned’s heart by just looking over his person.

“Last I knew you were unspoken for, and now with the tragic death of poor Viscount Winterfell, my daughter is left without a proper suitor,” he said, taking another sip from his glass before continuing. “I’m returning to London to finish the season and prepare my daughter, Lysa, for her debut.” 

Ned did not need to know what the man was implying. Catelyn would still remain in mourning for a few months, after all the engagement had been made public almost two years ago, after the girl’s first season, and now her father wanted to know if he’d have a chance to present his daughter to society as a free woman, even if the suitor would have to wait some time before it were made public.

“I’ll have to take some time to think about this, it has caught me a little off guard I must admit,” Ned said. 

The Baron agreed to Ned’s need for time, and with a handshake the two men agreed to meet in London the coming August, before the Tullys returned to Staffordshire. Why Ned thought he had a choice he did not know, after all Winterfell needed the Tullys’ fortune to survive, and even if Ned did not choose Catelyn Tully, he’d still be marrying another woman he barely knew. At least she appeared to have a backbone hidden beneath her training, making her a formidable candidate, at least in Ned’s mind.

So in an effort to do the right thing, to do his duty, Ned was now standing in the same church he had bid his father and brother farewell in, watching the Baron lead his daughter down the aisle. When Catelyn Tully stood in front of him, her veil in place and her red hair gleaming in the morning sun, Ned thought perhaps duty wasn’t the worst thing to build a marriage upon.

The End.


End file.
